Nostalgia New
by Isolde Necrophilia
Summary: ROGAN "...there was... a disregarded sexual attraction that she knew he knew of but would not acknowledge because, well, maybe he, too, was unsure if he was her father or her intended lover." The nightmare is granted: a law requiring all mutants to register has been passed and Xavier loses control of the dream he took a lifetime to create for himself and his dear students.
1. Chapter 1

He was the only person in the whole wide world who had ever been decent to her.

Well, that was kind of an exaggeration. A lot of people had been nice to her, really – and she did appreciate their efforts, but he was the only one who she had ever connected to and she wasn't sure whether she could title him as her friend, her brother, her father, or her lover. The relationship between them ensured trust, but it was beyond that; there was a mutual playfulness, a disregarded sexual attraction that she knew he knew of but would not acknowledge because, well, maybe he, too, was unsure if he was her father or her brother. If he was one of these things, wouldn't acting upon the sexual attraction be wrong?

_Well, then again, you are from the South, sugah… _

Rogue snorted and resumed to nurse pink lemonade to her lips. It was so sour and so sweet that her mouth watered even as the liquid was tipped; she couldn't decide if she wanted to ask Jean for more, or if she wanted to chuck it at her stupid red hair. Prolonging the decision was probably best, she decided after swirling the last droplets, and hummed with seeming contentment.

"So, like, I've never had a guy pick me up while we're, you know, _doing it!_" Kitty's eager voice fell to a whisper so loud that Rogue would've bet her mama's soul that everyone in New York was listening to her gossip about her recent sex life with her boyfriend, Piotr. Mostly disinterested but probably more subconsciously turned on, Rogue's emerald hues casted upon Kitty's long, bare legs as they swung from side to side at the edge of her plastic bathing chair. They were really long. Like, really long – maybe they were twice as long as the rest of her body. But you couldn't really tell unless you looked hard enough, and even then, well, it wasn't bothersome. They were slender, too, and it was hard to tell that Kitty could easily squat more weight than Rogue could, because they looked so useless. She mentally projected the Russian's visage as the teenaged girl clenched those long thighs around his waist. Would he be taken aback, too? "Ooooh, it felt so good! I've never known what an orgasm was, and then THAT happened. OOOOOOOH!"

Jean cut into Kitty's squealing. She had carefully taken Rogue's cup from her cloaked hands and seemed to hold the pitcher of pink lemonade high enough to hide her cocked brow and darkening cheeks. "Scott held me against a wall once – you know, the one on the south side of the entertainment room?"

"Yeaaa—OH, YEAH. Was that why the movies were knocked over? Logan blamed that on ME, you know!" Kitty pouted her lips and dramatically folded her arms over her bikini top. "I really wasn't lying when I said I didn't do it!"

Jean was still tipping the pitcher into Rogue's glass and through the rational liquid she could spot a look of concentration of the girl's face. It was almost as though she was trying to conjure a method which would allow her to pour the pitcher forever, because discussing the sex life she had with Scott Summers was less comfortable for her than falling from a cliff onto a bed of jagged rocks. "Can Ah PUH-LEASE have mah glass back?"

"U-uh, yeah, I was… just…"

"Yeah, whatever."

"You know he knew you were telling the truth, Kit. There's no way he would've let you off with just wiping all the windows of the Institute," Jubilee chimed, swaying her hips as she walked closer to the three girls. "He totally has the hots for Jean, and he didn't want to say anything about her banging Sco-"

"WHAT? NO!" The redhead practically flailed. She forgot the pitcher was in her hand, too, because as her fists balled to her side, so did the pink lemonade, and it splashed not only across the pavement, but also across Rogue's lap. She jumped to her feet, shocked by the iced refreshment, and evaluated the damage: her leggings and the bottom half of one of her favorite shirts was stained with the vibrant color, which also meant that the region of her body would quickly become heavy and sticky. Jean placed the pitcher on the tiny rounded table to help her friend, but Rogue merely shrugged her off, knowing that the effort would be wasted.

"It's alright, it's alright – don't bother, it's fine! Ah'm gonna go inside and wash off – was gonna anyway, you gals get so annoyin'!"

Kitty, Jubilee, and Jean shifted awkwardly where they either sat or stood. They'd apparently forgotten about Rogue's unfortunate circumstance in which she was not allowed to make skin-to-skin contact with another living human being unless he or she wished to be put into a coma. It was something which had haunted her since puberty, when she made her first kiss. She hadn't touched anyone since. Not with affection, anyway. It had been herself and her hand and she really didn't want to discuss it.

* * *

Later that evening, after Rogue had showered to wash away the sweet, sticky substance between her thighs, the girls insisted that she continue the day with them and go out on the town but despite the whining and squeals, she simply could not torture herself through several more hours of "Girls' Day". There wasn't enough self-loathing in the world. Instead, she occupied her night off by reading poetry by the late Robert Burns and began to reread _Wuthering Heights_, a novel she couldn't genuinely bring herself to appreciate until she had a drawn conversation with Professor McCoy. She first began to read in the center of her mattress with her legs crossed, but when her back began to ache, she lay flat on her stomach with her ankles crossed. Then, when her neck strained, she turned on her back – but the light from the ceiling blinded her, or, when she shadowed her eyes with the pages, they were too dark. So she tossed and turned and finally decided that she had retired her literacy effort and pursued the empty hallways of the Xavier Institute.

Even at eleven o'clock at night, the hallways echoed with the voices of other restless students who wanted to rest no more than they wanted to attend the early morning training session with Logan. Rogue, still loyal to the promise she made to herself to not socialize, shuffled down the main hallway with her head held high, gaze avoiding the others', until she pushed the door that lead into one of two kitchens forward and sighed with contentment when no one else seemed to be there. All she wanted with a little bit of chocolate milk to satisfy her sweet tooth and then maybe she'd think about chasing the dreams which mystified her insecurities and doubts.

"Aren't you supposed to be gettin' some sleep, kid?" Logan called brusquely. The younger girl gasped and peeked from behind the door of the fridge and rolled her eyes, veiling a smile by shoving her head back into the shelves and pretending to search for a gallon of two percent milk.

"Maybe. But a gal has to have her milk first," she insisted, her unusual politeness laced with a hint of sarcasm. When she had regained control of the muscles in her face, she seized the handle of the plastic jug and withdrew it. "Shouldn't you be the one t'rest, sugah? Ah'd be awfully nervous if Ah was facin' me. Ah'm equipped with _guns_."

Logan snorted. "Whatever, _kid_," he said; 'kid' was a fond name he used mostly for Rogue, and while he never used it in a way to degrade her, he had now, and it stung – just a little. But she was tough. She could shrug it off. The man, who wasn't much taller than she, and who was clothed with only basketball shorts and body hair, came behind her and reached onto an otherwise untouchable shelf which cased his beer. He placed a gentle hand on her back, probably out of habit, but it made Rogue a little self-conscious. She took the bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup from the door of the massive cooler and closed it.

"Ah'm not a kid anymore, y'know," she assured him, popping the lid off the container and holding it above the glass she had filled with milk. "Ah turn nineteen next week."

"Heh. Like that makes a difference," Logan continued to grumble and rounded the island, sitting firmly on a barstool that moaned beneath his unusual weight. His calloused digit pushed beneath the cap of his beer and he cracked it open, bringing it to his lips.

Rogue shot a playful glare in his direction. When nearly a quarter of the glass had been filled with chocolate syrup, she replaced the cap, withdrew a spoon from a drawer, and stirred. "Ah've changed. Mentally," - pause - "and physically." She turned her body to provide him with a side view and motioned her gloved hand in a mocking stirring motion, bringing attention to her feminine endowments. She caught Logan rolling his eyes from behind the blue-white can and she, too, chuckled, never being one to think much of herself. She rounded the island and plopped next to him; the heels of her feet rocked on an axle of the stool and a strand of snow-white hair fell in front of her face. "Ah'm jus' teasin'. Ah'm still the same stupid _kid_ Ah've always been."

"Heh. Well, I guess I'm not one for words, but, I'm proud of you, kid. You've come a long way," Logan paused and Rogue, trying very hard to not think about his compliment for fear of blushing or falling into a stupefied daze, noticed how quickly he was slamming the can down his throat. He was never very patient about drinking (or doing anything, really) but tonight, he might as well have been doing shots. She frowned a little and pulled at her baggy sweater. "Chuck told me you applied to Brown?"

Dammit. There went the heat in her face. At least it wasn't for other reasons, like drifting off into a daze in which he had suddenly taken her hips, slammed her against the counter their drinks rested upon, and taken her like a damned animal. Brown University was a very prestigious school, a school which Rogue had never considered applying to until recently when the conversation with Professor McCoy (as mentioned earlier) gave her confidence in her intelligence and inspired her to pursue education that Professor Munroe could not give to her. She felt proud of herself, which was a little odd, but she also felt a tremendous amount of guilt. The X-Men were her only family, and she knew if she told anyone else, like Kitty, that she was even considering leaving, if only for a while, that they would misinterpret her intentions and assume that she felt indifferent towards them. Only the professors knew (she had asked them to write her letters of recommendation) and now, apparently, so did Logan. "Uh, yeah. Ah mean, Ah probably won't get in. Ah don't think Ah wrote a very good essay, an' mah grades haven't always been very good, but Professah McCoy told me Ah should, an' –"

"I think it's great, kid."

"You do?"

"I know you're worried about what everyone else will think, but fuck it. Everyone needs a damn break from this place. You need a life outside of the X-Men, too, you know. I know it doesn't mean much coming from _me_, but sometimes you need to think about what's best for you. I'm surprised you haven't run off yet. I've always had it in the back of my mind that I'd have to come chasing after yah."

Wow. Was that sincerity? A small smile pulled at the edge of Rogue's lips and she nodded with understanding, not quite meeting hid gaze. Not like she would've been able to, anyway; Logan had a habit of drawing his own eyes to the floor or the wall when things became intimate. "Thanks. Ah think."

He tipped his head back to drain the last of the can. "No problem, kid." The stool released a sigh of relief when he got back onto his feet. "Now, get some damn sleep."

Rogue's laugh was melodic now, light, as though it had been the one straining under his weight. "Yeah, you too, _old man_."

She could always count on her brother, father, lover to lift her mood.

* * *

**A/N:** It's the first fanfic I've written in forever, yay! I'm unsure what suddenly inspired me to write this, or this pairing; I watched the anime X-Men series and while it didn't include Rogue, it definately made me think of this pair, which have always been my favorite, aside from Rogue/Remy. This piece was originally going to be a very quick one-shot, mostly focusing on her thoughts of the relationship she shares with Logan, but since I've come up with so many ideas for an extended story! And I don't believe I've ever completed one that I was proud of, so I'm challenging myself? Maybe?

If I do continue this, I will introduce more elements, including the classic Logan - Jean conflict. I'll introduce an overbearing conflict, and add more internal conflicts as well. I want to avoid being cliche like, for example, making a complete priss out of Jean. I'll try to make her a rounded character and maybe make some of you who despise her fall in love with her and maybe expirience somewhat of the same problem Logan expiriences? (;

Also, I've taken elements of Rogue's character mostly from the original comics and added some spice from various other interpretations of her from the movies and television shows. I'll include better details of the other characters in the next chapters, or later chapters, to provide a better idea of what timeframe this is established in.

So, please review! For those of you who write, you understand what it means to wake up to one. For those of you who don't, well, you've already spent x amount of time on this, so why not spend another minute or so? Please let me know if you didn't like something, or if you really liked something, what is it? Maybe throw out some ideas you've had or some ideas this piece may have inspired. I would appreciate it so very much.

-Isolde Necrophilia


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit! Rogue, pay some fucking attention! Jesus!"

Her hopeless doe eyes adjusted to the boulder falling apart like glass where her feet had once so firmly stood but were now tucked beneath the weight of one of her team mates. A tiny gasp rolled from her tongue and her gloved hands shoved the other off her, a frown easing into her expression. "Ah _am_ payin' attention! Ah can't see nothin' from your fat _behind_-"

In the midst of trying to kick John and his big, stupid, fire-making machine whatever the heck it was thingie off of her, something hard – and sharp – smacked her in the face and halted her verbal attack. Her jaw stiffened and another moan, one of desperate affairs, sounded from her chest to her throat; her eyebrows pushed together and her tongue brushed against the object which had pierced through her cheek and left her for, what seemed to be the first time since she put her first boy in a coma, breathless. John rolled himself and his big, stupid, fire-making machine off her and was about to comment about her behind being bigger than anyone's in the whole entire world when he noticed, first, how the color of her skin had changed in the last few seconds to match the white streak framing her face; then, second, a stream of blood gushing around but mostly underneath a silver piece.

"Aw, shit, mate, you idiot!" His Australian accent stained his words with the aid of an unexpected burst of adrenaline. "What is that? A piece of Sentinal? Faaaawwwk, c'mon, then!"

John pushed through the mess with two identical tubes in either hand; when an enemy approached, he ruthlessly released flammable gas into the air and controlled the flames from there, creating a unique piece of art before breaking down the opponent and moving forward. Rogue followed behind, stubbed by a daze that had originated by a drunken roommate at three o'clock in the morning, which then initiated a morning without sleep, which led to early morning practice, which had, obviously, led to a piece of something stuck in her mouth. It was more uncomfortable than it was painful; the object, which tasted further of rust than her blood did, propped her jaw open and pushed her tongue aside to an angle. John stopped behind the corpse of a Sentinel.

"'ah't!"

"What?" He cocked a brow. "Come again?"

"'ah't!" she tried again, but as John was trying to decode the new tongue acquired from the metal object, something seized him and threw him against a foot of one of the colossal sentinels. She winced a bit upon hearing a confident crack sounding from his nose, but she hadn't much time to think about how much it would hurt to have her face smashed because all of a sudden a very wild man was trying at her, too, and dammit, she didn't want to know. The man tried to seize her sides, but she slid between the space of his shoulders, held onto his biceps, lifted herself into the air, and delivered a swift kick to the groin that sent him to his knees.

"_DAMMIT, KID!"_

"Herher, ai' 'uh'in 'er'ol, 'o'ah!" Rogue beamed through her glistening locks of white.

_**X-Men, I apologize to end your session early, but this is an emergency. Please report to the main hall.**_

And Cerebro must have heard Professor Xavier's mental message, because as everyone in the room became still, so did the false reality and the machines before everything shut down and she, along with her team mates, were standing various distances from one another in an innocent blue-tiled room.

"Oh man, I wonder what's, like, going on?" Rogue heard Kitty's voice amongst the mumbling of curious X-Men.

"I don't know, but he sounded worried," Scott replied not too far away; he was extending a hand to Jean who, like the good girlfriend she was, accepted – but not without a nervous glance at everyone surrounding her; she was a professor in training and, Rogue presumed, she was unsure if a woman in her position ought to display affection for another in a situation as such.

"No shit," Logan growled as he picked himself off the floor. "That was a good kick, ki – what the Hell happened to your face? Pyro, you're supposed to look after your damn partner! Maybe a couple weeks of not goin' out will get your head out of your damn ass!"

John, like Logan, was picking himself up, too – only his hands were trying to hold blood with the hope that it wouldn't stain his suit. He was failing miserably, though, and it was drizzling between his fingers and down his chin, dripping on the cuffs of his long sleeves. Rogue thought he might have shed a few tears because there were empty steaks leading from the corners of his eyes and down his dusted cheeks. "Tha's not fucking fair! She would'a been crushed if it wasn' for me! She was the one who wasn' payin' any goddamned attention! I'm fuckin' hurt, too – are you going to punish 'er? Or just me? No, don't fuckin' answer tha'- it's just me, because yah're a fuckin' prick!"

"John! Logan! Stop it, please! We can discuss this later, right now we _need_ to go. Besides, your bickering isn't going to help Rogue," Jean's maternal instincts ruled the tension and everyone, once again, fell silent; Logan, who had taken the opportunity to show off his claws, withdrew them and John flashed his tallest finger. The redheaded beauty rolled her eyes, unlaced her fingers from Scott's, and approached Rogue, her lips twitching with uncertainty. "Everyone, please continue. The Professor said it was urgent."

The X-Men stalked towards the unwelcoming open door and out of sight. Early morning practices never went very well compared to those scheduled in the afternoon, but this one was exceptionally terrible. A gentle pink had risen to Rogue's otherwise pale cheeks; John was right, it _was_ her fault, and he didn't deserve Logan's punishment. But she was quite taken aback with how he reacted to seeing her harmed; he was usually more accepting of injuries, and usually blamed the person who was suffering for his or her own stupidity. Besides, she wondered as Jean tried to pry the shard from her face, why hadn't Logan thrown her to the side like a ragdoll? He did it with everyone else, but he was holding back. He let her harm him. It was an effective move, but not one which could have harmed someone like himself…

Evidence of his favoritism. Kitty's voice was booming in her head: _LIKE, DUH_!

"She gonna need some stitches, Red?"

Rogue forgot he was still standing there.

"It's hard to say. If she was healing at a normal rate, I would say yes, but your healing factor hasn't worn off her yet. I'll give it an hour or two. If the wou- _ah_!"

_**Jean, say no, say no! **__She was whispering inside of her head, careful, because of her powers, to not think too loud. There were two rocks pushing down against her: one inside of her chest formed by mangled organs from the guilt received by the other rock, which was pressed against her hips. The first was heavy and sunk into the empty pit of her stomach while the other was nearly weightless and lifted to meet the other; together, the two rocks were building excitement and she mentally noted that this feeling might have been described in erotica fiction to be a building orgasm. __**You can't say no. You can never say no, to anything. Just – I can't think! **_

_Her voice jumbled further when the coarse digits of her paramour yanked her jeans off her hips and then lifted her into the air, and then against a wall, and it was all hips and teeth. She kept trying to think rationally with her thoughts being driven to what she disliked about the taste of his mouth (__**cigarettes are disgusting!**__) or the way he handled her (__**I'm a goddess, not some kind of an animal!**__), but as soon as he pushed inside of her, her steam of thoughts fixated on how snug he fit inside of her, and how every single thrust pushed her higher to a white bliss. She thought about all of the fantasies she held as a child and how they were coming true now, and how they felt so natural as she scraped her nails along his spine. Oh, Scott had never made her feel this way. __**Oh, no, it was never like this…**_

"Jean!"

"I'm alright," Jean mumbled, suddenly sounding less like a nurse and more like a damsel who came close to danger. "I removed the piece. How are you feeling, Rogue?"

"Ah,… Ah feel _sick_," she answered honestly, eyes not quite drawing to meet the concerned gazes of her elders. Her leather brushed against her swollen cheek which was, as Jean had promised it would, was beginning to heal. But she hardly cared about it anymore; she wouldn't have noticed if a rod protruded through both of her cheeks and through her mouth. All she cared about was getting away from the duo, and quickly. Whatever Professor Xavier was concerned with wasn't what Rogue was concerned with: all she knew was that she needed to get out of the institute as quickly as possible. "Ah'm gonna lay down. Ya'll can tell me what happened later, alright?"

From the corner of her eye she saw Jean giving her a look of confusion and concern and Logan's face had hardened. The boots around her feet clanked hard against the steel floor as she hurried into an adjacent hallway filled with lamps, and into another filled with paintings and, alas, down another filled with hardly anything in particular but a series of doors leading to shared rooms.

Rogue found the room she shared with Kitty and without a single breath left in her lungs, removed a large bag from under her mattress and began to shove the few things she owned inside of it.

She knew now that Logan wasn't her father, and that she wasn't his daughter. The pain she felt now was pain coursed from deceit. She knew his scent too well, and knew the texture of his skin, though she had never felt it, enough to know that it was he who gave Jean Grey feeling in the memory she unknowingly shared with the younger mutant. Jean knew Logan felt something he felt for no one else for her, and Jean felt it for him, too, though she denied it. There was no room for a silly almost-nineteen-year-old girl. What she wanted would not come to her because things like that did not come to girls like her and it was not until she arrived at the Xavier Institute that she began to believe otherwise.

So she threw her bag over her shoulder and left through the back door.

* * *

**A/N :** I was very hesitant about writing this chapter; I know it's hardly my best, and that it might even be a disappointment. I have a plot in mind, and while I was going to take my time truly building up to it, my impatient nature got the best of me. More Rogan will come in the next chapter and their chemistry will genuinely begin to build from there and forward - right now the feelings Rogue possesses will only be explained as ones a silly teenaged girl like herself will have.

Thank you to everyone who took their time to read the first chapter, and to everyone who took their time to leave kind words. I do appreciate everyone who added this story to his or her alerts, but I do ask that you leave a review - no matter how brief. Why? Because, for one, I would really like to know where my strengths and weaknesses lie so that I will be able to improve. But, on a more shallow level, the number of reviews I recieve, the better the story looks, and the more likely people will stop and read. No one can view how often this story has been favorited or subscribed to. I spend a lot of time and energy into my writing and it is very discouraging for any writer to believe that no one cares or has read the piece of work.

Thank you for reading! Now, review (;

- Isolde Necrophilia


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